so give me your prayers up on your feet
and i'll give you a show, it helps fill the seats
and i'll give you a show, it helps fill the seats
“It works out, darling.” Asta hums in lieu of saying anything more about their ages or how exhaustion crept up on them constantly whether they admitted to it or not. Instead, he responds with actions, happily pressing kisses to Danta’s throat as his hands drag down his back, along a fully relaxed spine.
The soft breath of content that leaves him as he sinks them down and gets them comfortable against the bear is one that only bolsters how quickly Danta falls asleep. Asta, lagging behind, watches and fusses as much as he can in the bloody daze he’s in, before he too is falling asleep.
He doesn’t dream. It seems Danta has had enough of one for the both of them in that case. But he does start to stir as Danta’s twitching and restlessness are noticed even by his subconscious. But he isn’t awake enough yet to see what the panic is, only that Danta is suddenly fighting against the arms around him when Asta’s eyes finally open.
Untangling the two of them, the butcher misses the snarl on his lover’s lips that’s aimed toward him, thinking in that exhausted half awake state of his that says it’s reasonable for a snake to have maybe tried to get in between them and their kill, maybe it had snuck up Danta’s pant leg in the process.
He isn’t sure what it is, but he lets Danta go with a quiet huff of a sound, accented and rough before he finally looks up at his lover’s face when nothing else seems to stick out, confusion immediately pinching his brows to see the snarl there and no real thing to cause it, but the fact he’s been trying to fight out of his touch.
It’s been a while since Danta has had a nightmare that Asta had been the source of. It doesn’t even occur to him right now that he is the reason and cause for this. “Danta, darling?” He asks, a mistake perhaps, because his rough accent might be a bit closer to the nightmare version of himself that had always been deep with sleep or exertion.
The soft breath of content that leaves him as he sinks them down and gets them comfortable against the bear is one that only bolsters how quickly Danta falls asleep. Asta, lagging behind, watches and fusses as much as he can in the bloody daze he’s in, before he too is falling asleep.
He doesn’t dream. It seems Danta has had enough of one for the both of them in that case. But he does start to stir as Danta’s twitching and restlessness are noticed even by his subconscious. But he isn’t awake enough yet to see what the panic is, only that Danta is suddenly fighting against the arms around him when Asta’s eyes finally open.
Untangling the two of them, the butcher misses the snarl on his lover’s lips that’s aimed toward him, thinking in that exhausted half awake state of his that says it’s reasonable for a snake to have maybe tried to get in between them and their kill, maybe it had snuck up Danta’s pant leg in the process.
He isn’t sure what it is, but he lets Danta go with a quiet huff of a sound, accented and rough before he finally looks up at his lover’s face when nothing else seems to stick out, confusion immediately pinching his brows to see the snarl there and no real thing to cause it, but the fact he’s been trying to fight out of his touch.
It’s been a while since Danta has had a nightmare that Asta had been the source of. It doesn’t even occur to him right now that he is the reason and cause for this. “Danta, darling?” He asks, a mistake perhaps, because his rough accent might be a bit closer to the nightmare version of himself that had always been deep with sleep or exertion.
Astaroth
so give me your sins, give me your lies
but whisper your love, and i'll whisper mine
but whisper your love, and i'll whisper mine
